"Anne Shirley, you are completely ridiculous, do you know that?"

Anne's eyes shone with righteous indignation. Her nostrils flared as she took a breath in preparation to bite back at Gilbert Blythe. Her red hair was falling loose from its already scruffy bun, windswept and wild and gleaming like fire in light of the setting sun.

"If I am so ridiculous, Mister Blythe, why do you insist on wasting your time talking to me? If I am nothing more than a… than a ridiculous, over-emotional, dramatic female, with nothing of any practical use to say or do, then why bother with me at all? Only a fool would spend so much time with a person they despise!"

Anne spat the words at Gil, face flushed, tears of anger pooling in her grey-green eyes. Her brows further furrowed as, instead of her words scoring a cutting blow to Gil, as she had hoped they would, he instead grinned widely at her. More than just grinned. His posture melted into relaxation, shoulders falling back, head tilting forwards. His expression became open and bright, filled with confused, amused, affectionate sincerity. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Anne, you are impossible." He laughed. "Did you hear me say you were useless? I 'despise you'?" Gil shook his head and brought his hand to rest over his eyes. He dragged his palm down across his face, and rested it over his mouth. He took a moment to stare at the wild, incautious, passionate woman sitting across from him.

"You are ridiculous."

Anne moved to argue again, but Gil didn't give her chance to interrupt. He continued;

"Anne, in a world full of people so afraid of seeming foolish that they never say or do anything out of the ordinary, you dare to be ridiculous. And you are over-emotional. You love, and you hope, and you dream, and you fight, and you believe in yourself and in everyone else, over and above anyone else I have ever met. You are the embodiment of drama, can you even deny that yourself? You are a modern day muse, Anne. You are a storyteller, and a poet, a performer, an educator, and an adventurer. You can't do those things without a flair for the dramatic. If you truly believe that I ever say these things to you with anything but pure admiration and pride, and if you truly believe that I come anywhere close to despising you, Anne Shirley, then in addition to being ridiculous, and emotional, and dramatic, and beautiful, you are also an idiot."

Anne pouted, biting the inside of her cheek. Her face was still flushed, and her brow still furrowed, although now with a touch more contemplation than consternation. Gil leaned forward and brushed a wisp of red hair from across her eyes with his thumb. Placing a cool hand on her hot cheek, Gil stared at her so intensely that Anne felt as though he was seeing straight through her mortal body and into her immortal soul.

Without warning or decision, she felt all of her indignation and anger flood our of her so quickly that it made her dizzy. Her eyes widened, her face softened. She smiled softly, and her eyes sparkled with affection, and a hint of mischief.

"I suppose I may be a little ridiculous, and over-emotional, and dramatic, when you put it like that," she said. "But I am only an idiot sometimes…"

Gil leaned closer, tilting Anne's face up to meet his. Resting his forehead on hers, Gilbert paused, breathing in the moment, the sea air, the sunset, the grass, the sand, and the beautiful, unimaginable, ridiculously perfect person whose arms were now around his neck.

"Anne Shirley, I love you for all that you are."